The ocean was a brilliant blue, broken only by the white foam at the bow as it cut through the waters. H.M.S. Proficient was making good time and would make their Chinese destination a full two days ahead of schedule. Needless to say the Captain was thrilled, as were many of his passengers. One, however, was not.

Elizabeth Montgomery could easily wait a lifetime before the ship drew into the harbour of Tanggu. Many nights on the trip from England she had wished a storm would wreck the ship and her with it. But escape never came.

She instead was forced to spend the days on the deck of the exclusive vessel, honey coloured ringlets dancing down her back while the wide brim of her hat kept her fair skin out of the blistering sun, soft green eyes watching the horizon without any real desire to ever reach it.

The trip to China was the idea of her parents. A solution of sorts, at least in their eyes. To her, it was a form of prison sentence. She was being sent to Peking, to stay with her Great-Uncle, a diplomat in her Majesty’s consulate. She was being sent away so that hopefully the supposed shame she had caused would go with her. That the rumours would wither and die and that when she eventually returned – no doubt far more cultured and well behaved than when she left, she’d be suitable marriage material once more.

Elizabeth still didn’t fully understand what she had done to deserve such a harsh punishment. Or rather, she understood, she just didn't believe it was fair. All she did was fall in love.

She knew, deep down, it was the object of her affections that was the root of it all. He was well spoken and well educated, handsome and charming. And he was also spoken for. The intended fiancé of another young lady of their family’s social circle. A young lady with an unfortunate nose which lent her a highly unfortunate tone of voice and gave her a positively hideous laugh. They’d met at a ball, as young people did, they’d danced. No harm in that. But then they’d taken a walk in the gardens, without a chaperone. Held hands. He’d kissed her cheek.

Nothing more.
Nothing at all.
Not really.

But the next day he’d tried to break off the engagement. And then the troubles began. Elizabeth’s name popped up. Along with accusations of all manner of thoroughly unladylike activities being undertaken on her behalf.

And so, with parents fighting to maintain the family reputation, and that of her sisters, she was sent away. He was sent away too. To where? She had no idea.
Part of her hoped that one day they might find each other again.

As a smudge on the skyline spread and turned into land, she doubted he would find her here. In this strange and foreign land.

It was warm to be so early in the summer. That was part of the problem China was in at the moment. Droughts had driven peasants to the cities to search for employment or food. Added to that was the humiliation imposed on the Qing dynasty by foreign powers. Opium was imported after the opium wars, leading to widespread addiction. Added to that was the fact that chinese citizens that converted to christianity automatically came under the protection of the imperialist powers, something opportunistic bandits had used to their advantage. And the foreign powers hadn't been shy about using force to get their way of late either.

Wu Jintao pondered these facts as he got ready for work at the international legation. He was a christian himself, finding the belief of one God easier to comprehend and relate to than the "Three doctrines" of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism. His parents had not been pleased. They had taken upon themselves to re-convert him and make a 'proper' chinese of him. They had pressured him to attend teachings of martial arts, a discipline Wu enjoyed still. They had philosophical and religious discussions with him, discussions that ironically enough made Wu more convinced of his christian faith. And when all else failed, they had beaten his brow about how foreign influence was detrimental to chinese culture and tradition.

He'd had to concede on some of their points. The foreigners had done many wrongs to China and its people. But on the whole, Wu was convinced that China was a backwards country that needed an influx of new ideas and impulses. He'd been convinced of this as he'd learned to speak english at one of the christian missions and had read the foreign history books. The world was constantly changing and China was, in Wu's opinion, lagging behind.

As he left the house he shared with his parents he said goodbye to them both. They ignored him, still upset about the discussion they'd had last night about The Society of Righteous and Harmonious Fists, what the foreigners just called 'boxers'. Wu just scoffed at the name. To call practitioners of the martial arts boxers was akin to calling a finely prepared meal of Beijing duck 'a meal'. Though technically correct, it didn't begin to suggest the wonders hidden within the term. Wu hoped that he could contribute to the foreigners understanding of chinese ways. They could be blatantly unsubtle and coarse, and other times they could be more refined and clever than the wiliest mandarin. Wu saw the appeal of both worlds and he tried to merge them into a coherent whole. For himself, if nothing else.

His walk to the legation took him past the train station. Hefting his walking stick made of solid wood with a metal core (it doubled as a weapon for self defense) he felt some apprehension as he got closer to the train station. The now all too familiar Fu Qing mie yang (Revive the Qing and destroy the foreigners) rang out as a mob of angered civilians mixed with boxer soldiers came marching down the street. Some of them spilled into the train station, and screams were heard from the inside. Screams, and sounds of fighting. Wu hid. Being a christian that worked for the foreigners, he was a target himself. He'd dressed in traditional clothes, a necessity these days. He wasn't sure if he was recognisable and he didn't want to find out. He mingled with some bystanders and watched impassionately as the throng rushed past.

There were still screams to be heard from inside the train station. Wu could never later tell what posessed him just then, but he decided to venture into the train station to see if he could help anyone in any way.

Soon enough Elizabeth was being bounced along in the back of a cart bound for Peking. Her senses had already been thoroughly assaulted at the quayside, so many strange smells, so many unfamiliar and indecipherable voices. Had it not been for the board that bore her name she might never have found her means of transport. She definitely wouldn't have guessed in a thousand years that the word leaving the lips of the man who held it was her surname. And so she and her chaperone, an elderly maid by the name of Agnes, followed the funny little man to his conveyance and off they went.
That had been hours ago.
And still the unfamiliar countryside flickered by with no sign that civilisation was any closer. She chuckled quietly to herself at that thought.

Civilisation.

From what she'd overheard on there ship, currently things in China were not as sedate as perhaps her parents might have hoped. Quiet, worried, conversations of bandits and uprisings between fellow Europeans. Words and phrases in mandarin she didn't begin to understand from Chinese passengers but their tone and expressions spoke volumes. She wasn't sure her parents hadn't actually made a mistake.
They had sent her there in the hope that she might learn to adopt the qualities rumoured to be attributed to women of the orient.

Modesty. Humility. Obedience. Poise.

It wasn't that Elizabeth was rude or particularly willful but she did know her own mind and often aired her opinion. Prior to the incident in the garden her father had found those qualities in her to be charming. They'd both sat in the study and shared mocking whispers about the overly mild gentlemen her mother had insisted come to tea. He'd encouraged her reading, even though it meant she knew far more of politics and history than she would ever know of embroidery or music. He had said he wanted a daughter who could think for herself. Not any more it seemed. Now he wanted a meek, silent, daughter who wouldn't hesitate to wed the next suitor who came calling. A daughter who knew her place.
It stung to think his opinion of her had been so easily poisoned by the gossips and snipes of others.
He had wanted her to be happy. Now he just wanted her gone.
As the expression said. Out of sight, out of mind.

Eventually the uncomfortably hot journey came to an end and they reached their destination.
Peking.
In all it's glory met them with more bustle and noise than she'd seen in her life. Vendors with carts selling all manner of unfamiliar but delicious smelling food, women hiding behind fans while wearing colourful silken dresses and men milling in between them all despite their wide brimmed hats.

Elizabeth wanted to stand and look at everything but before she could, her elbow was firmly taken by Agnes and the pair were helped into a rickshaw which would take them to the diplomatic quarter to meet her guardian for the duration of her stay. However long that might turn out to be.

Wu ducked inside the station. Pandemonium reigned. He stood gaping, surveying the scene. Vendors' carts were overturned, spilling food and beverages and hot coals on the floor. Upended luggage carts contributed to the confusion, spilling clothes and toiletries on the platforms. Several people lay dead or injured as well. A little distance off, Wu saw a mixed group of people being herded by Harmonious Fists and hangers-on. They were shouting out threats to the flock of what turned out to be christian chinese and europeans.

Wu pondered his options. The Harmonious Fists were the real threat here. There were two of them, brandishing swords. He could probably knock one of them out cold. Then he'd have to contend with the other in an open fight. He chanced it.

One of the Fists turned and smiled as he saw Wu, all decked out in traditional chinese garb.

"Certainly. Come join us, brother!"

Wu approached them and struck, quick as a cobra. The closest Fist was unconscious before he hit the ground. The other Fist pulled his sword and started trailing around Wu. Wu had to fight off the hangers-on, they were quickly dispatched or scared off. One of them landed a lucky blow on his head, making him dizzy and nauseated. The last Fist had time to study Wu's moves and he closed in, certain that he could outmaneuver and win. But Wu was proficient in several styles of martial arts and he'd kept to one style to lure his opponent in, making him think he knew Wu's strengths and weakness.

He lunged at Wu who at the last second managed to sidestep the swords thrust. The Fist quickly withdrew and made a slashing motion, cutting Wu's forehead. Wu saw that he'd overextended his slash and quickly closed in and landed a vicious blow on the Fist's head. He went down cold. Wu grabbed his sword and looked at the little group of people.

"Follow me to the international compound! It's the only place you'll be safe!"

He took off at a run, stopping only briefly to tie a piece of cloth on his forehead to staunch the bleeding. The riot was spreading through the streets, and they had to hide and duck into alleys to avoid the worst of it. They happened across several corpses of both chinese and europeans. This was getting worse by the second.

As they cautiously ventured down a street, they found an upturned rickshaw. The man pulling it was nowhere in sight. In the rickshaw, spilling out in the street, was an elderly european woman and a wizened old chinese man. Wu approached them when he heard a young woman cry out for help in english. "See to them" he yelled, pointing at the figures in the rickshaw. The cry for help had come from a shop, and he entered it, ready for anything. He saw a young woman being manhandled by three smelly men, lecherous grins plastered across their faces.

Everything was so frenzied compared to the sedate pace of England that she didn't immediately realise that something was wrong.
The voices around them grew steadily louder. Then more angry. And it was only a second before the rickshaw suddenly stopped that she had reached for Anges' hand.

"I think we might have come the wrong way." She murmured as men leapt before them. Shouting something in their direction. Fingers pointed at her and the men began to mount the rickshaw.
"Run Lizzie!" Agnes urged. "Run!"
Elizabeth took one look at her worried face and another at the advancing men and did as she was told. Picking up her skirts she jumped from the rickshaw and into the throng. Shoving her way past angry faces and into the first doorway she found.

Slamming the door behind her she tried to lock it but found no way to do so. Backing away as the men from the street appeared on the other side she felt her stomach tighten with fear.
"Go away!" She warned, her parasol a pathetic weapon but she brandished it all the same. "Leave me alone!" She edged a little further away, green eyes wide and frightened, scanning the shop for a way out. All they found were shelves and tables.

The men spoke to each other, she didn't have to understand their language to know what it was they wanted. Eyes when they flashed to her were no where near her face. One of them stepped closer and she swished her umbrella towards his waist. He jumped back a little.
"I warn you, you come any closer and I'll-"
She swung it again but one of the other two grabbed it. Shoving her back in the process and holding it against her neck.

She screamed, long and loud. Hands catching her wrists and pinning them at her sides.
"Help!" Her voice pierced the air shrilly and she had to hope it carried beyond the door of the shop. "Please...someone help me...!" Tears pricking her eyes as she felt a hand pulling at her skirts.

For a split second she worried he had come to join the men who were trying to keep her back against the wall but the flash of his sword soon answered her unvoiced question.
Two of the men quickly released her arms and turned to face the stranger with the bandaged head while the third dropped the parasol and instead shifted his hand to her throat to hold her where she was.

She squirmed and pulled uselessly at his hand, his grip tightening as the sounds of fighting came from behind him. His frame blocked her view. She had to hope the stranger was winning.
She had to.

Wu had heard too many stories of chinese men violating european or christian chinese women and he felt it shamed him and his countrymen. Some of the reasons for the Harmonious Fists anger were valid enough, but that did not excuse rape and murder. Chinese were supposed to be better than that. A wry thought crossed his mind as he closed with the would-be rapists: "I wonder what my parents would think of these examples of chinese manhood!"

Then they were on him.

The confined quarters and the cluttered furniture worked in Wu's favor as the two men tried to outmaneuver him. As it was, he had all the time in the world to dispatch the first of them, going for blood and the kill this time. A vicious slash across the throat sent the first man down with a stunned expression on his face as he tried to keep the blood inside, gurgling his last breaths all the while. The sound would haunt Wu for the rest of his life. The second man, in a fit of controlled fury, managed to knock the sword from Wu's hand. They circled and lashed out with their fists and feet, a look of utter concentration on both their faces. Wu noticed the man had training in a style of martial arts that favored open spaces, and only that. He sent a silent thank you to his parents and his sifu for the varied training he'd received as he closed on the man and knocked him out by shifting up styles on him.

Wu picked up his sword and approached the third man holding the woman. As he approached, the man turned around holding the woman before him, and in one instant Wu lost concentration. A flash of honey coloured hair and bright green eyes crowning a beautiful pale face made his heart lurch, and his concentration was off long enough for the last man to brandish a knife, pressing it to her throat. Damn. The man spoke in mandarin: "Take one step closer and I slash her throat. She means less to me than a bug."

Wu stopped dead in his tracks. "Let her go and I will allow you to live. Your two comrades died trying to get to me. Do you think you'll fare any better? If you kill her I will make you suffer before you die. Believe me" Wu growled. "Now LET HER GO!" Doubt and uncertainty filled the man's eyes as he lowered the knife. He still had her by the throat, though. Wu lunged forward while dropping his sword again. He managed to grab the hand with the knife and pin it to the wall, earning him a fresh cut on his hand in the process. Wu's other hand grabbed the man by the throat. He turned to the beautiful woman and hoped she understood english as he bellowed "Run!" at her.

Elizabeth felt faint. The lecherous grin of the man who held her throat in a vice like grip, combined with the terror of the situation and the sounds of fighting that filled the air, it was all too much.

Suddenly she was facing another man, the man who had apparently come to her rescue. She could feel a blade at her throat and the thumping of her heart now almost deafening in her eyes. Her green eyes were wide as words were exchanged between the men, she couldn't understand a single syllable but she could tell she was probably better off not knowing what was being said.

In a flurry of movement, she was suddenly free, her attacker now pinned back against the wall and her rescuer holding him there.
In an unexpected display of English he told her to run and instinct made her bolt towards the door before her sense of duty made her stop and look back. Her rescuer was unarmed and wounded going by the red rivulets streaming down his hand. A glance outside showed her the chaos was still going on. Men and women running panicked through the small street.

Turning back she picked up his sword, trying to ignore the men he'd slain with it moments before, her hold on it awkward and ungainly and she had to be very careful not to cut him or herself with it.
"You...you might need this." She offered, holding it out towards him, the deadly point half aimed at the man struggling against the wall.

She knew she should run, flee the bloody scene and try to find help but...she had no idea where she was, or what had happened to Agnes. The man who had come to her aid might be able to help her, once he'd dealt with this last ruffian. She couldn't run if she didn't know where to run to.

"And then, when you've disposed of this horrible example of lasciviousness, perhaps you would be so kind as to help me find my way back towards my destination?" She added quietly, giving the man with his back to the wall a thoroughly disgusted look.

Wu choked the man in his grip, relenting only when his body grew limp. He let the body go, and it slumped to the floor like a ragdoll. Leaning down, he confirmed the man was still breathing. Good. There had been enough killing to last Wu a lifetime. The woman he'd come to rescue was still there, holding his sword. It was painfully obvious she had no experience in handling weapons.

He gingerly picked up her parasol and held it out to her. "I suggest we swap, miss." Wu had always been partial to chinese women, and he'd entertained hopes of some day finding a christian girl to marry. Truth be known, he hadn't been exposed to many examples of young western womanhood. Standing before him now was a beauty the like of which he'd never seen. And she'd regained her composure quickly, considering what she'd almost been subjected to.

"Might your destination be the consulate, miss? If so, you are in luck. For that is my destination also." His english was stilted, and he still had trouble with the l's and the r's. Even so, he was one of maybe a hundred young chinese men in all of Beijing with such fluency in the language of the foreigners.

He sheathed the sword after wiping the blood off it on one of his fallen opponents, a sign of contempt on his part. And then it struck him: "Please, I beg your forgiving. In all the fighting I have neglected to introduce myself. My name is Wu Jintao (he pronounced it in mandarin), and I am an interpreter for the foreigners in their compound." He bowed for her. "I must beg forgiveness for my people, miss. You aren't seeing Beijing at its best. Droughts, famine, and, ah, fickle diplomatics has left my beautiful country in the state it's in."

Why was he babbling like this. They were in a life-and-death crisis, for God's sake! "Please to follow me, and stay close, miss!" He peeked out the door and took in the sight of the pandemonium that was Beijing. He rushed to the overturned rickshaw where the people he'd rescued at the railway station had miraculously been left unharmed. The older white woman was slowly coming to, but she was in no fit state to travel.

With the help of the other refugees, he turned the rickshaw upright again. The old chinese man was unfortunately dead. With what respect they could muster in such a crisis, Wu and the male refugees lifted the body on to the rickshaw. He wanted the women inside the cart and the men to pull it. He himself would scout ahead to see if the road was clear. With a last look at the beautiful young european woman, he took off.

Making a conceited effort to keep her eyes on the face of the man who had undoubtedly saved her life and away from the men unmoving on the floor of the shop, Elizabeth found herself more than pleasantly surprised and rather relieved to have found someone who spoke her native language so well.

"The consulate was indeed the place I was travelling too. I only arrived in your country this morning and...I have to admit to being completely and utterly lost." She smiled bashfully. "If you could help me at all, I would be eternally grateful. I am already indebted to your quick thinking and bravery." Her eyes lowered for a second, she shouldn't be so forward. Especially with a gentleman she had just met, regardless of the circumstances of their introduction. It was that kind of behaviour that had gotten her sent to this apparently dangerous place in the first instance.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," She bobbed a shallow but sincere curtsey. "I am Elizabeth Montgomery and there is a gentleman at the consulate who will be expecting me. My guardian." She added quickly, although she couldn't quite say why.

Leading her back into the cacophony and chaos, Elizabeth did as she was bid and walked as closely behind him as she could. So close in fact she could almost smell the sweat on his brow and the blood on his hand.
Soon they were back at the rickshaw and, thankfully, Agnes looked to be unharmed. Lifting her skirts, she climbed back up to sit beside the recovering woman, averting her eyes as the body of the driver was lifted up onto the front of the carriage and then they were off.

One hand firmly gripped the parasol and the other held onto the side of the rickshaw. Her eyes following her saviour as he jogged ahead of their small procession. She was sure it was a beautiful city and, no doubt, a stunning country. But in those moments she only had eyes for Wu. He was the light in the darkness that had swept around everything.

She knew she owed him a great deal, the most anyone could another human being, and she was already trying to think of how she could begin to repay him.

Wu weaved and ducked and dodged through the tumultuous streets, scouting always for safe passage for his charges as they slowly, torturously made their way towards the international compound. There were bodies littering the streets, as well as upended carts and stalls, with goods and scraps of food littering the cobblestones as well. They had to detour several times due to vicious fighting ahead or because of their way being blocked by debris from the riots. All told, they used the better part of an hour to reach the walls of the compound, only to face another setback.

A mass of Wu's countrymen had surrounded the walls of the compound, and armed guards on those walls had leveled their rifles, waiting for the command to fire. Wu ducked back and wracked his brain for a solution to this new challenge. Making up his mind, he ordered the chinese he'd rescued from the railway station to arm themselves with clubs. Turning to Miss Montgomery and Miss Agnes, he spoke: "I will try to make my way into the compound and get help. It is surrounded, and if we all try to walk through the host of my countrymen, we will more than likely be discovered. You must follow my compatriots and hide in this alley. You must keep out of sight until I return with help. Please don't think too harshly of us, Miss Montgomery. Our country is indeed troubled at the moment."

Without reflecting on the morality or decorum of his actions, he gently seized the young woman's hand and gave it a quick kiss. It was more than enough time for him to marvel at the delicate softness and fair complexion of this goldenhaired woman with those impossibly green eyes. Miss Agnes made a sound that Wu was hard pressed to decipher, but he was fairly certain that she was scandalized by his actions. Wu didn't care. It had been a gesture of reassurance more than anything else, and he might die before reaching the compound.

"If I am not back in 3 hours, assume the worst. Wait for nightfall and try to make your way inside. God willing, I will be back." And with that, Wu took off.
Running out of the alley, he successfully mingled with the rebels. They were too plentiful and too occupied with chanting slogans at the foreigners to notice a new face among them, and Wu carefully and deliberately pushed forward, chanting along with the rebels to mask his intentions. He observed no firearms in the group, which was fortunate. After twenty minutes of pushing and sidling he was at the front of the throng.

He observed the guards of the compound, looking for a familiar face. Sure enough, peering over the sandbagged fortification at the gates was a large man with chevrons on his sleeves. Gunnery Sgt. Bradford was sergeant-at-arms today. He was one of the friendlier marines, behaving in a civil manner to all the chinese working in the compound. Thinking and acting quickly, Wu created a diversion as he spun his head and pointed as he yelled: "Look!"

As their attention was diverted for a few seconds, Wu seized the opportunity and ran towards the marines, yelling in english at the top of his lungs: "DON'T SHOOT! GUNNERY SERGEANT BRADFORD, IT IS ME, WU JINTAO! DON'T SHOOT!" A roar rising behind him told Wu that his deception had not earned him any friends among the Harmonious Fists. The guards at the gate leveled their rifles at him, and one fired a warning shot close enough to Wu that he could hear a tiny crack! as the bullet went past him. Sgt. Bradford peered suspiciously at Wu before his face softened and he told his men to stand down.

Wu walked slowly forward, his hands raised. Bradford took Wu's sword away and led him inside. Wu told of the events of the morning, eliciting a startled response when Bradford was told about the european women and chinese christians hiding outside. Wu checked his watch and saw that there were two and a half hours left on the deadline he'd set. He was brought to the english consulate where he quickly explained the predicament of Miss Montgomery and Miss Agnes and the small group of chinese christians. He was brought before the consul under armed guard and told to repeat his tale. Wu did so, emphasizing the fact that time was running short, and that the longer they waited, the more peril was faced by his little group.

The consul looked at him with a hard glare. "How do I know that this isn't a trap, Mister Wu?" Wu described Miss Montgomery and Miss Agnes with all the details he could muster, going into excruciating detail when it came to describing Elizabeth. This convinced them that he knew of them, but they were still wary. Wu pointed to his conversion as a christian and to his exemplary record as an interpreter for the english speaking contingents in the compound. They were still wary. Wu, exasperated and increasingly frantic, lost his temper. Speaking through gritted teeth, his face flushed with anger he told them: "It is obvious you do not trust me, so I propose this: Lead me out in front of your rifles. If I lie to you I will be the first to die. But for God's sake, you must do SOMETHING for those poor people waiting for me! They will more than likely die at the hands of the Harmonious Fists if they are discovered! Do you want the death of the beautiful Miss Montgomery on your head, honoured consul? I beg of you, I implore you, do SOMETHING!"

The british consul dismissed Wu, and he was led to a british barrack where he was given a cup of tea and his wounds were tended to by a doctor. An armed british soldier was conspicuously present and watching Wu the whole time, leaving him in no doubt that he would be killed if he did anything rash. Wu checked his watch. Fortyfive minutes left of his deadline. Damn it all, why couldn't they believe him!? Because he was chinese!? Wu was furious that he had to explain himself to foreigners in his own country. It was humiliating and, he felt, undeserved.

When thirty minutes of the deadline remained there was a sudden flurry of activity in the barracks, and Wu was unceremoniously told to follow a sergeant. Outside the barracks, a platoon of british riflemen stood with fixed bayonets and ammunition bandoleers crossing their red tunics. The sergeant looked at Wu and said simply: "Show us where the refugees and the europeans are. Any funny business on your part and you will regret it. Lead on!"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Wu marched purposefully towards the gates with the platoon of british soldiers following closely. The marines let them through, and Wu again faced the throng of his angry countrymen. The british platoon went to work. As a well oiled machine, they advanced, lunged, and thrust their bayontes towards the crowd. The crowd, not being used to the merciless discipline of a cohesive military unit, shrank back. Wu pointed to the alley where he'd left his charges, and the british sergeant made the necessary deployments and gave the necessary orders to secure the alley.

Wu, accompanied by the sergeant and two riflemen trotted down the alley. Wu yelled out: "Miss Montgomery! Miss Agnes! It is me, Wu Jintao! British soldiers are here! You are saved!"